The Talbot Curse
by phantomxqueen3
Summary: The Wolfman (1941) AU where Sir John gets bitten at the end of the movie and has to deal with the fact that he killed his son and has become the werewolf himself.
1. Bitten

**Chapter 1: Bitten**

A bright Autumn moon hung overhead casting a menacing shadow upon the village of Llanwelly, where a recent series of mysterious deaths had taken place. Some blamed a man by the name of Larry Talbot, who came back to the village to help his father on the estate after his brother passed away. Some blamed a wolf. Little did they know that they were one and the same. But that was all over with now. The werewolf was dead.

Sir John stared down at his son's corpse in horror at what he had just done. He played the night's events over in his head. He remembered how the wolf snarled and clawed at him, pulling him down the ground and baring his teeth in his face. He remembered striking it with the cane, hitting it over and over again, till it fell lifeless on the ground. Even then he didn't stop. He hit it a couple more times just to be sure. He looked down at the figure at his feet. It was dressed in men's clothes but had the face and paws of a wolf. Then to his horror, he watched as the wolf slowly faded away and turned back into his son. He couldn't believe his eyes…Larry, his son, was a werewolf. But how? Werewolves weren't supposed to be real. It was just a silly legend. If only he had just listened…

"Sir John?" A voice said, pulling him back to reality. He looked up and saw a sea of concerned faces staring at him.

"Go back to the house…we'll take it from here." Montford said in a somber voice. Reluctantly, John agreed, knowing there was nothing else that could be done. He couldn't bare to look into Larry's lifeless face any longer.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Dr. Lloyd asked. John shook his head no, not wanting to be bothered. He mumbled something, he wasn't sure what. His head felt like the fog surrounding them had somehow seeped into his brain, making it difficult to think. He went to get up but stumbled over, he felt a sharp pain radiate through his arm and shoulder.

"Sir John, are you alright?" Frank asked, as he and Gwen walked over.

He gripped his shoulder and felt warm blood oozing between his fingers as he clasped his torn flesh. Dr. Lloyd rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. "You're hurt!" He exclaimed.

"I'm fine..."

"No, you're not. Let me help you." He insisted.

"Just leave me alone!" John shouted pushing the doctor away and staggering off into the dark woods. He could hear footsteps running after him.

"John!" He heard the Lloyd's voice call out, but it only made him run faster. At least as fast as his legs could carry him, which wasn't very fast considering how late it was and everything he had been through. He was tired and just wanted some time alone to process everything. He didn't want to deal with doctors poking and prodding him, and people pitying him.

Finally, he reached a clearing with a river running through it at the end of the property line. Too weak to go any further, he knelt down and looked into the river. He could see his reflection illuminated in the water. His hair was all disheveled and his face had a couple scratches on it from stray branches he had collided with on the way. What a pathetic sight…he thought to himself. His eyes then fell on the moon behind him. It hung over him like a ghost, haunting him. Reminding him that his son was dead, and it was all his fault. Suddenly, his shoulder sent out a searing pain again, making him wince. A sudden realization came over him as he clutched his wounded shoulder. He had been bitten. He was now the werewolf.

John looked up at the moon above, wishing it would go away. Unable to keep his eyes open a second longer, he collapsed. Everything was slowly becoming black, it was like the night sky was turning into a blanket engulfing him in darkness. As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, he could hear footsteps in the distance getting closer to him. "Sir John?" He heard a voice call out, but it wasn't the voice he was expecting to hear. He looked over and saw a small figure coming towards him. All he could make out was a silhouette, but the accent was distinct as she bent over him and whispered something he couldn't make out. It was the gypsy woman. This was all her fault! If she had never come to town, Larry would never have become a werewolf. He went to sit up, but his head suddenly started to throb, and he fell back down. "Rest, Sir John. Rest." She whispered. Powerless to stop it, his eyes slowly closed, and he blacked out, letting the darkness take over.


	2. Broken

**Chapter 2: Broken**

John woke up the next morning in a strange room. The sunlight pouring in through the bedroom window, greeting him like a warm kiss. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax for one brief moment before everything started coming back to him. Visions from the previous night haunted his dreams and played back like a movie right before his eyes while he was awake. If only it was all just a bad dream…but it wasn't. There was no escaping it.

He sat up and touched his shoulder. There was no pain, not at all what he felt last night. It was almost like he hadn't been attacked at all. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway, expecting to see some kind of horrible scar, but there was nothing except a small mark in the shape of a pentagram on his shoulder and some blood that had dried on his shirt. He remembered Larry showing him the same exact mark yesterday.

"The mark of the wolf." A voice spoke out from the corner of the room, startling him. He looked over and saw the gypsy woman sitting there, hands folded neatly over her lap in a rocking chair with a blanket draped around her shoulders.

"How did I get here? Where am I?" He asked her as hastily buttoned his shirt back up.

"You're safe, Sir John. I brought you here." She told him, getting up from the chair and standing at the foot of the bed. "This is my home."

"Why…why did you bring me here?" John asked, looking around. It looked like one of those gypsy wagons that he saw pass through town on several occasions. There were trinkets covering the walls and tapestries. It was actually quite quant, very unlike his home. Some days he found Talbot castle to be quite cold and rather lonely. Sometimes, he longed to get away. Maybe now was as good a time as ever, he thought to himself. He had no need to keep the estate now…

"I was trying to help you. I'm sorry about your son." The gypsy said.

"You're sorry?! You brought this…this madness here with you! I killed my son because of you and all you can say is sorry?!" John spat, unable to control his anger any longer. The gypsy didn't flinch.

"Maybe I did…I let my son suffer and watch everything that made him who he was slowly die because I couldn't bear to lose him. I was selfish and he paid for it. I'm sorry he brought this upon you and your family." He wanted to be angry at her but couldn't. She might have brought the werewolf with her, but Bela was her son, if that were him would he have been any different?

"Our sons are in a better place now." She assured him, holding his hand. He yanked it away. While he understood her, he wasn't ready to forgive her.

"I should go." He said, not meeting her gaze. He tossed on his coat and pulled up the collar. His coat was torn, but it was better than nothing. "Good luck, Sir John, and may God help you." She said. He shivered, something felt strangely ominous about that. He couldn't figure out whether the gypsy hated him or not. Either way he didn't care. That was the least of his worries.

He walked out into the cool Autumn morning and hurriedly walked through the gypsy camp, weaving in out of the tents and carriages as he went. Once he reached the main path and started on his way back to the estate, he noticed something rather strange. He could hear every bird chirp, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, and every twig that cracked beneath his feet as he walked. He could smell all the flowers that were still in bloom, like someone was holding it right under his nose. It was almost like his senses had been dialed up to 11.

After about an hour or so, he finally made it back to the estate. In the driveway he saw two cars parked there. One belonging to Dr. Lloyd and the other belonged to Montford. He crinkled his noise at the sight of their cars. They had such deplorable taste in vehicles, especially Montford, John thought to himself as passed them. He reached the front door and hesitated knowing full well that he was to be met with a series of questions, all of which he didn't care to answer. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. He heard voices emanating from the parlor. Maybe if he quietly snuck up the stairs, they wouldn't notice him, he thought.

"John?!" He heard Lloyd's voice call out from the other room. He rolled his eyes. Too late. A moment later Lloyd and Montford appeared, looking tired and shaken.

"Where did you go? We looked all over for you last night." Lloyd asked.

"I just walked around. I needed some time to think about things." John replied.

"But you were injured?" He questioned further, confused.

"No, actually. I thought I was, but my coat is just torn from the fight." He quickly answered. Montford raised his eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to go to bed. I'm rather tired and would like to retire." John told them, heading towards the stairs.

"Are you going to be alright?" Montford asked. John took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "As fine as I can be." He answered curtly. The detective went to open his mouth to say something, but Lloyd coughed and interrupted him, "I think we better go. You will call us if you need anything?"

"Of course." John lied. He doubted even with Lloyd's medical expertise that he could do anything about the affliction that cursed him now. This was so much more serious than a back ache or a cold.

"By the way, I found this. I thought you should have it." Montford said, holding out the cane. John froze, staring down at it. The last time he saw that cane was last night. He had no desire to even look at it, let alone keep it.

"I don't want it." John said, pushing it away.

"Paul, c'mon!" Dr. Lloyd called out, but he paid him no attention.

"But it's Larry's. I thought you would want to keep it—"

"I said, I don't want it!" He growled, and with a sudden burst of anger he wrenched the cane out of Montford's hand and snapped it in two, the wood making a loud crack that echoed throughout the hall, and then he tossed the pieces across the room. Lloyd and Montford stared at him in horror, their mouths slightly agape at what he had just done. They never saw him lose his temper like that. He was usually so calm and collected, even when the situation didn't call for it.

"Now, get out!" He snarled, pointing to the door. Lloyd grabbed Montford by the arm and pulled him out the door. Not wishing to toy with John's nerves anymore.

"What a strange thing to do. I thought he would have wanted it." Paul said as he walked to his car. "Something isn't right about him." He added.

"I'll check on him later." The doctor assured him. "Let's just leave him alone for now. All this has been quite a shock for him." And with that they got into their cars and left.

John took a deep breath trying to calm himself, instantly regretting losing his temper like that. He looked across the room and saw the cane lay broken in a corner. He went over and picked up the piece with the wolf head on it. He looked at it for several minutes, thinking about the first time Larry brought it home after meeting with Gwen. He was so happy then, not a care in the world, or a curse for that matter.

"I'm so sorry Larry. I should have listened to you…" He whimpered, the tears finally coming. He felt a grief he had never felt before. First his wife, who died after Larry was born, then his son, John, to a hunting accident, and now Larry. All that was left was this horrible curse that held him prisoner. What did he ever do to deserve such a fate? At least the next full moon wasn't for another month. Till, then all he could do was wait…


	3. Transformation

**Chapter 3: Transformation**

Before he knew it, a month had passed. Tonight, there was going to be a full moon and he was still no closer to finding a solution than he was when all this started. He spent the last several weeks with his nose stuck in a book trying to figure out a way to get rid of this curse, his books always seemed to help him before, but no solution seemed to present itself. All he could think about what he was about to unleash on the unsuspecting people of Llanwelly should his one and only plan fail. He rubbed his hands together nervously, trying to calm himself, but nothing seemed to work. He looked at the clock. It was almost time. Where was that doctor? He thought, becoming impatient.

As he waited, he played back the months events over in his head, what he could remember. The month seemed to pass by in a fast blur. He thought back to the first night he returned home. He remembered, Dr. Lloyd coming back to check on him after his unexpected outburst about the cane. He remembered telling him about the curse, and Lloyd assuring him that it wasn't real, that he hadn't been bitten by a werewolf. _"Come back when it's a full moon, you'll see."_ John insisted. He'll soon find out. John thought to himself. He looked out the window and saw the light slowly fade to night before his eyes, every inch of blue sky turning the darkest shade of black. His chest ached with anxiety at the thought of what was about to happen to him. Would it hurt? He wondered, as he turned around and ran his hand along the telescope.

He thought about the day Larry came home and how he expertly installed it. He couldn't believe it had been a month already. A month since his son died. He thought back to the funeral, which was held a couple days later. Only a few people showed up to pay their respects, most just gossiped and watched from the streets as they carried the coffin from the church to the cemetery. He put him in the family crypt alongside the other Talbots, including his wife and son.

As he left the cemetery, he overheard one woman say, _"I don't think it's just any coincidence that all these murders happen as Larry Talbot returns home. I think he killed himself, was too cowardly to own up to it."_

Those words made his blood boil with anger. It took everything in his power to control himself. Larry's funeral was the last place he wanted to get into a fight, so he just ignored it, and went home. Normal things like gossip didn't bother him…but for some reason he found that he was getting annoyed over the slightest things. Must be the curse, he figured.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door, and a few moments later Lloyd came into the room with the butler at his side to announce him. "Dr. Lloyd to see you, sir." The butler said, in a droll voice.

"Thank you, Miles. You're dismissed for the rest of the night." John told him, handing him some money. "Go somewhere and don't come back for a couple days."

"Thank you, sir." Miles said, feeling confused but grateful at the same time. He promptly left and shut the door behind him.

John then turned to Lloyd. "It's almost time. I didn't think you would make it."

"I almost didn't. A patient of mine has been having a troubling week." The doctor explained.

"They aren't the only one."

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Lloyd asked.

"Positive. I installed the chains and everything." John said pointing to a couple of thick chains that were bolted to the wall across the room.

"I still don't think all this is necessary." Lloyd said, feeling unsure.

"It is…for everybody's sake including your own….please, do this. For me." John pleaded.

"Alright, if it'll make you feel better." He reluctantly agreed.

"Thank you." John said, placing the key in the doctor's outstretched hand. As he handed him the key, he saw a mark on his palm…a pentagram. He froze in terror.

"What? What's the matter?" Lloyd asked, noticing the expression on John's face.

"Nothing…" He lied. "Let's just get this over with."

He walked over to the chains and closed the cuffs around his wrists. The metal felt cool against his skin. They were a little loose, but it probably wouldn't matter once he became the wolf. Lloyd hesitated for a moment then locked the cuffs and stuffed the key in his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" He asked, looking down at his friend who was sitting helplessly on the floor, a look of doom in his eyes.

"No…you must go. Get as far away from here as you can." John said, urging him to leave. He remembered reading in a book that anyone who has the pentagram on their palm will be the next victim of the werewolf. He just hoped he was wrong, that Lloyd would listen and leave.

Lloyd sighed, wishing there was some other way. If only he could prove to John that he wasn't going to turn into some mythological beast that howled at the moon. Maybe he would just wait a few minutes. After the moon appeared and nothing happened, John would realize all this was for nothing. He didn't want to leave his friend chained up all night.

"Go now!" John shouted, making him jump. Without another word, he left the room and shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. It wasn't necessary. Nothing was going to happen.

John sat there, alone, on the floor, waiting. That's all he could do now was wait…wait for the wolf to take over and for John Talbot to disappear. Slowly he watched as moonlight began to fill the room inch by inch illuminating every corner of the room. Suddenly, he felt a sensation all over his body, like a bug was crawling underneath his skin, making him itch and burn. He groaned in pain, unable to do anything about it. He closed his eyes, praying it would stop, but it just seemed to get worse. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand and watched as his flesh began peeling off of him, and was replaced with thick, dark, fur. A few seconds later, claws emerged from the tips of his fingers, feeling as though someone was ripping off his nails one by one. His clothes made a sickening ripping sound as he slowly turned from man to wolf. He could slowly feel consciousness fading from him. The werewolf was beginning to take over. His jaw violently dislodged and was replaced with a deadly, snapping maw with fangs bursting through his gums, making blood drip down his lips. His eyes burned with fire as they changed from brown to a bright fluorescent yellow and his cries turned into a deep growl signifying that the transformation was now complete.

The werewolf pulled at the chains that bound him. He snapped and growled at them, pulling as hard as he could. Nothing was going to stop him. He tugged at them harder and harder, the wood paneling on the wall cracking from the pressure. Finally, after one last tug, the chains gave way, and snapped. He was free.

"John? John are you alright?" A voice called out from behind the door. When there was no answer, Lloyd opened the door and peered in. He looked over at the spot he had left John in and saw nothing, except a pair of broken chains hanging from the wall. He gulped. John couldn't do that. From inside the room, he could hear a low rumbling sound, like a growl. Not wanting to stick around and find out what it was, he quickly shut the door, but then something suddenly started pulling at the other end, trying to prevent him from shutting the door. He held onto the doorknob with all the strength he could muster, but whatever it was, was stronger than he was. Unable to hold on any longer, he let go and decided to make a run for it. He made it to the top of the stairs when the werewolf leapt at him from behind. They tumbled down a flight of stairs before coming to a stop on the landing below. The wolf pinned him down and snarled into his face. He looked at the sharp fangs that were inches from his face, and at the piercing, yellow eyes. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. John was right…he was a werewolf, and now thanks to him the whole village of Llanwelly was going to know.

"John? Don't…please." Lloyd pleaded, but it was no use. John was gone now and all that remained was the wolf. The more Lloyd tried to tug himself away the more the creature got angry. Finally deciding he had enough, the wolf dug his fangs deep into his neck, ripping his flesh apart like paper. He screamed, but to no avail, no one could hear him.

The werewolf licked its lips ad raised his head, letting out a long howl that echoed throughout the halls of Talbot Castle. The night had only just begun…


	4. Nightbound

**Chapter 4: Night bound**

The wolf bolted out of the house, fresh blood staining his lips. He ran across the lawn and into the woods. The fog was thick making it difficult to see, but it didn't slow him down. He was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him. He was still hungry; his first kill wasn't satisfying enough. The wolf roamed around the woods for a short time, searching for new prey. Finally, he came upon a clearing with a little stream and across from it stood a deer, eating some grass. His eyes fixated on it for a moment. He could smell its blood clear across the water. How delicious it would taste. The wolf crept down behind a bush, his back arched, ready to pounce. He licked his lips as he stood there watching the deer, oblivious to its fate. Without warning, he leapt out from behind the bush, and over the stream of water, landing on a rock in front of the deer. Before the deer had a chance to escape, the wolf jumped at its tearing its many sharp teeth into the animal's flesh. The was a brief struggle before the deer finally died. The wolf tilted his head back and let out of triumphant howl, before going back to his meal.

After finishing with the deer, he continued through the woods. No longer hungry, he was instead curious. This was his first night awake and he was curious to know his surroundings. That's when he came upon a small camp. He could smell fresh blood everywhere, but no one was awake, except for a small woman who sat on her porch in a rocking chair, staring off into the stars. The werewolf crouched down, carefully sneaking towards his new victim, this one just for sport.

Suddenly, a twig broke from underneath his paw, making a loud cracking noise that echoed through the night alerting the old woman to his presence. She quickly stood up, her eyes scanning the area, knowing that the only other being awake besides her tonight would be the werewolf. A few feet away from her she saw a pair of yellow eyes, gleaming back at her through the fog. The wolf stopped for a moment, considering whether or not to attack. Now that he was seen, it made the game a lot less interesting. Deciding to do it anyway, he started to run towards her, and just as he was about to attack, the woman pulled out a necklace that had been hidden underneath the collar of her dress. He stumbled backwards, blocking his eyes, and yowling in pain at the sight of the necklace. It was in the shape of a pentagram.

"Get away!" She yelled at him, standing firm. "Go back Sir John!"

Not wanting to stick around any longer, the wolf darted away, disappearing into the darkness. The woman sighed in relief and sat back down, clutching her chest. That could have been the end. Even though she had experiences with werewolves before, it still shook her to her core. She twirled around the pentagram in her hand, her mind deep in thought. After meeting the wolf firsthand, she decided that she would give Sir John one last chance to accept her help. Maybe now he would understand.

The wolf ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from the camp, away from that old lady. As he reached the stream again, he started to feel tired, like something had drained all his energy. He slowly waded across the river, to the other side. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was nearly dawn. A bright pink replacing the black of the night. The wolf let out one last, small howl, before collapsing on the ground.

As the moon disappeared and morning came, the features of the werewolf slowly began to fade away, turning back into his original form. Sir John lay in peaceful slumber for a while, seemingly unaware of the events that had taken place that night. After a while, he began to stir. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was over. But before he had a chance to celebrate, he looked around, confused for a moment. This wasn't the observatory. He looked down at his wrists and saw the chains were broken. His plan had failed. "Oh God…" He murmured, placing his face in his hands. Did he kill anyone?

His back and legs ached. They felt like someone was trying to pull his bones out from his body. He looked down and saw that blood stained his white shirt. Where…or who did that come from? He could feel a sense of guilt and dread lying in the pit of his stomach. He also saw that his pants were torn at the knees and his shoes had come off, leaving him to walk around bare-feet through the brisk Autumn morning. He quickly glanced around making sure no one was nearby, and got up, sprinting back to the house as fast as he could before someone saw him. He wasn't too eager to explain the state of his appearance.

He sighed in relief as he reached the great oak doors of Talbot Castle without a single soul seeing him. The doors creaked loudly as he pushed them open and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet, more so than usual. He was used to the house being quiet for a long time, especially after his children grew up, and left to go their own way…but for some reason he felt like something wasn't quite right. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He stood there for a moment inspecting his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, not from what he could see. So, unable to come up with any conclusion, he just brushed it off and hoped he was wrong.

Desperately wanting to change out of his tattered clothes and take a shower, he bolted up the stairs. All of a sudden, he tripped over something and fell down, his head colliding with a step as he went, nearly knocking him back out. He lay there and rubbed his head, feeling dazed. What had he tripped on? He lifted himself onto his knees and turned around his eyes falling upon the lifeless, mangled body of Dr. Lloyd, the first victim to the werewolf. John gasped and clasped a hand to his mouth, his stomach lurching at the horrid sight before his eyes. "What have I done?!" He placed a hand on Lloyd's face, it was ice cold. What do I do? He wondered, unsure whether to inform the police about it or not? Would they accuse him of murder? He glanced down at the corpse and shook his head. No. No human could do that. He reasoned, noting how the throat was torn apart. He sighed in defeat. He would handle this, but only after he cleaned up. Lloyd was just going to have to wait a little longer.

After retrieving the key from Lloyd's coat pocket, he ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he quickly took off the cuffs, rubbing his wrists where they had cut into them leaving slight gouge marks. John remembered last night and watching as his hands changed before his eyes into horrible claws. Not wanting to think about last night, he pushed it from his mind as best he could. He turned on the shower and began to undress, first taking off his shirt and then his pants tossing them in the trash, along with the cuffs. He leaned over the sink and looked up into the mirror at his reflection. He almost didn't recognize himself. His hair was a mess and his face had several cuts, one particularly deep one on the bridge of his nose. He wondered how he got that one. He then ran his hand over his lips, noticing the dried blood that ran down them and onto his chin. It was Lloyd's blood. Hopefully only his. Who knows how many others he could have killed last night?

After taking a warm shower and cleaning off all the grime and blood from the previous night, he half-heartedly got dressed, and combed his hair. His appearance was the least of his worries.

He slowly went down the stairs, hoping somehow that he had imagined the body being there, but he didn't. He came to a stop and knelt down beside Dr. Lloyd. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I should never have gotten you involved. You were a good friend…you didn't deserve this." John spoke in a low, somber voice.

After a while, he got up and went over to the telephone that was on a table by the door, his hand lingered over it for a moment, contemplating what he would say and how long it would take to move the body before they showed up. The police would surely question how the wolf attacked Dr. Lloyd in his own home. His hand fell back to his side, unable to bring himself to do anything. He went into the drawing room and stood before the fireplace, looking down into the dying embers. Somehow everything seemed quieter now than when he first came in. He heard no birds chirping or any of the usual noises you would expect to hear at this time of day, just a faint breeze here and there making a whistling noise as it snuck in through the cracks in the windows. He strode over to the window and watched as the leaves slowly fell from the trees. Normally, this would be a very peaceful morning where he would sit and have a nice warm cup of tea, but today was different. There was nothing calming or peaceful about it.

In the distance, his eyes fell upon a figure heading towards the house, dog in tow. It was Andrews, the groundskeeper. He forgot about him. He held his breath, a rush of panic coming over him. What was he going to do? He ran his hand through his, greying brown hair, his mind racing. How was he going to get the body outside without Andrews noticing?

Finally, after careful consideration he decided to move Lloyd down into the cellar for the time being. Andrews wouldn't go in the cellar; he had no reason to. When night came, he would just move the body outside. He ran out into the hallway and went up the stairs, picking Lloyd up, and swinging him over his shoulder. Normally, this wouldn't have been an easy feat especially for his age, but brute strength was a trait of the werewolf. He quickly opened the cellar door, not bothering to turn on the light, he could see in the dark just as well. He assumed that was another thing that came with being a werewolf.

As he went down the stairs, he stopped for a moment. He could hear someone above. Was it Andrews? He had to hurry. John quickly ran down the remainder of the stairs, finally reaching the bottom a few moments later. He placed Lloyd in a corner near the staircase, carefully hidden away by a shelf of old books. "I'm sorry." He whispered, feeling guilty. Lloyd deserved so much more than this. Maybe he should just turn himself in? That would be the right thing to do. He took a deep breath and went back upstairs. As he approached the hall, he could smell Andrews's scent. A feeling of dread washing over him as he opened the door, and slowly stepped out.

"Ah! Good morning Sir John!" Andrews greeted him, tipping his hat. John forced a smile.

"Good morning." He said, his voice hoarser than he imagined. All of a sudden Andrews dog began barking and growling at John, his tail between his legs.

"Hey boy! Stop that!" Andrews looked up at Sir John, dumbfounded. His dog never did this to people, especially those he knew. John glared down at the dog. Somehow the dog knew what he was and didn't like it. He was only trying to protect his master.

"I'm sorry, Sir John. I don't know what got into him." Andrews said, backing towards the door, pulling on the leash.

"By the way, I found a dead deer on the property. I think it's the wolf." Andrews told him as he opened the door. John felt his heart leap into his throat.

"Oh…" Was all he could manage to say.

"We'll get it yet. Don't worry." Andrews assured him, even though he wasn't so sure himself. It had been 2 months and they still hadn't caught it.

"I'm sure." John said in a quiet voice, not looking at the young man before him. If only he knew that the wolf they were trying to hunt was him.

"See you later." Andrews said, tipping his hat again before heading out the door, shutting it behind him. The barking quieting down the further they got from the house.

John ran his hand through his hair again. Apparently, the wolf wasn't satisfied with killing a human it had to go kill a deer too. Who knows what else it would do tonight? He thought to himself. Not knowing what to do, he paced the room. Normally he would have gone up to the observatory to think, but that was the last place he wanted to be right now. That was where he turned into the monster. That's what he was. He thought. A monster. How could he live with himself after everything he did? He hid Lloyd's body in the cellar, why? Because he was afraid. What did he have to lose? He already lost everything he cared about. What a coward. In random burst of anger, mostly at himself, he kicked down a chair sending it flying across the room. He sighed and annoyingly shoved his hands in his pockets. He had to do something. He had to figure out what to do somehow, but he couldn't think, not here. Feeling tired, he decided that maybe a nap would help. He went up the stairs, slowly walking down the hallway to his room. His legs barely carrying him. He didn't know whether it was from a lack of sleep or a lack of a will to live. But he had no choice. There was no way to kill a werewolf…or was there?

He went across the hall, into Larry's room. On the bed were the broken pieces of his cane. He picked up the part with the handle and held it up, the silver gleaming in the morning sunlight that peaked through the window. This would work. He was going to end this curse once and for all. There was going to be another full moon tonight and he didn't want any more blood on his hands. This was it.


End file.
